


Theseus Fell, Pirithous Choked

by Silver_Trooper



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Major Character Injury, President Toby Smith | Tubbo, This was written before the festival, Traitor Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Trooper/pseuds/Silver_Trooper
Summary: In which Tommy and Techno return to L’Manberg, each seeking to claim what he believes is rightfully his. Theseus falls, Pirithous chokes, and Asterius razes the labyrinth.---------Written before the events of the festival on January 5th
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 4
Kudos: 209





	Theseus Fell, Pirithous Choked

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to give all credit for this my fic to my friend @/promsofa on Twitter! She made this absolutely amazing fic and since she doesn't have an account, she asked if I could upload it for her on my account! I hope you enjoy it and don't forget to check her out once again on Twitter at @promsofa
> 
> \-----
> 
> Possible TW - Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Blood, and Choking

“I’d like the disc back, Tubbo. Please” 

Tommy cringes. That’ll never do. It’s shit. It makes him sound like a giant pussy.

“Give me my disc back, Tubbo. NOW.”

No, no, that doesn’t work either. It’s not aggressive enough. It just makes him sound lame.

“GIVE ME THE DISC, TUBBO!”

Definitely not. That makes him sound like a prick.

He needs to hurry up. He needs to stop stalling. He needs to stick to his plan. Technoblade’s words run races through his head. _“Just stay by the community house, Tommy. I’ll be in, and I’ll be out. I’ll find your disc, get done what I need to get done, and come back. Just stay here. ”_

Of course, Tommy isn’t following these instructions. He knows Techno hasn’t got a clue where the disc is and is probably somewhere in L’Manburg doing fuck knows what. He knows Techno just wants him out of the way. Tommy has his own plan, knows exactly who has the disc, and knows exactly how to find him. 

The compass in his pocket is impossibly heavy. He knows the little glowing needle inside it points straight at the white house. Straight to his disc. Straight to.... to Tubbo. 

The path he walks through New L’Manberg feels like a dream. At some point, Tommy’s invisibility potion wears off, but he doesn’t care. His vision has tunneled. All he can see is the wooden path in front of him. All he can feel is the compass clutched tightly in his hand, slick with sweat. All he can hear is the blood pounding in his ears. 

He’s so focused on moving forward that he almost misses the White House entirely. It doesn’t exactly stick out from the rest of the houses, all wooden beams, and large glass windows. In his daze, he probably would have walked right past it, if not for a loud _thump_ from just behind the door. 

To Tommy, it feels like a clap of thunder.

He’s here. He’s _actually_ here. Right behind that door is... is... He’s not sure. It’s not _just_ the disc. It’s something bigger. More finite. It’s finally putting a period on the end of the long, unhappy novel the past few months of his life have been. 

Tommy steels himself. Of course, he has no idea what to expect when he _actually_ opens the door. A pack of tamed wolves? Netherite clad guards? A booby trap primed to cut him to shreds?

_You have to keep going. Don’t be a pussy. You have to see this through._

He’s got one hand on the doorknob. He’s so close. The _disc_ is so close. It’s almost over. 

_No turning back now._

Tommy pushes the White House door open... and stops short. 

The compass clatters to the ground. He stands. Dumbstruck. The office is empty, save for a solitary figure standing in the back, shrouded in shadow. 

And it isn’t Tubbo. 

It’s _Technoblade._

Tommy’s ears are starting to ring. _But the compass said- he’s supposed to be- no, no, no, no, no! What’s happening? He’s supposed to be here. The compass said he’d be here!_ His brain feels like it’s being pushed through cheese wire. Techno looms, his back to Tommy, a shapeless mass of blue cloaks and shining armor. He’s struggling with... something.

“Go back outside,” Techno says, not turning.

Tommy doesn’t obey. He steps closer. He hates being back in the office. He hates the smell, he hates the taste of the air, he hates everything about it. His legs are moving of their own accord.

“Technoblade, where’s Tubbo? I thought he’d be- I thought you were- the compass-”

“Get out of here Tommy. You’re not supposed to be here.” 

Techno still hasn’t turned around. He’s half-hidden in shadow, his giant frame dwarfing the furniture in the office, clearly built for someone a third his size.

Tommy doesn’t turn either. “Well, if Tubbo’s not here then- then the disc isn’t either. We should go.”

A sharp, pained gurgle from somewhere near Techno. He shifts his weight slightly, keeping his back to Tommy. 

“T...To-mm-?” The noise is cut off by a squeal of pain.

Tommy looks down. There’s a leather shoe on the ground.

Something’s wrong.

Against Technoblade’s warning and his own better judgment, he steps forward, further into the office. His head pounds. There’s another gurgling gasp. Something’s incredibly wrong.

Tommy sees Techno tense, almost imperceptibly. Steeling himself. 

“Tommy, I told you to get out. We’ll get you your disc, but I’ve got...unfinished business first. It doesn’t involve you.”

It’s too late. Tommy takes the final step, and the ringing in his ears vanishes. His heart drops into his stomach as his mind puts every piece of the horrible puzzle together at once. 

The shoe. 

The noises. 

The compass. 

Techoblade isn’t struggling with a _what,_ he’s struggling with a _who_. 

Tubbo’s dangling at least three feet off the ground, Techno’s giant hand wrapped easily around his throat. His feet, one missing a shoe, kick helplessly at the air. He’s scratching at his neck with all the desperation of a wild animal caught in a trap and his eyes, usually so soft and friendly, are crazed, shot through with burst blood vessels and fear. 

For one of the first times in his life, Tommy can’t speak. He can’t breathe. His eyes lock uselessly with his best friend’s, storm gray and glassy against a face that’s quickly turning scarlet. 

Tubbo’s eyes widen even further if that’s possible. He starts to choke something out. “Y...your...Ali..ve?”

Technoblade’s fist tightens with a sickening crunch, and Tubbo makes a noise that might be a scream. “Don’t talk.” he spits.

Tommy’s tongue won’t work. He can’t think straight. His mind is screaming at him to do something, ANYTHING. But he’s rooted to the ground. His netherite boots feel like they’re made of lead.

“...Techno? Techno, you’re- you’re hurting him, I-“ Tommy’s brain feels like it’s been ground down with sandpaper. His mouth feels like it _is_ sandpaper.

After what feels like an eternity, Technoblade turns. He swings Tubbo around as he does, light as a doll. He hangs in the air directly in front of Tommy, legs jerking, knuckles white, presidential sigil pinned on his chest flecked with blood and spit. He’s making a soft, pained sort of whimpering. 

Tommy’s never seen him look so small. 

“...and didn’t he hurt you, Tommy? Didn’t he exile you, leave you out there all alone, to die?”

Tommy doesn’t know how to answer. He _can’t_ answer. Tubbo’s head tilts back, lips a sickening shade of purple. A tear traces its way down his face, running rivers over the mass of scar tissue on his jaw.

“I’m...so-sor...sorr..y...” It’s barely a whisper. 

Tommy feels bile rising in this throat. “Put- put...put him.... p-put him...” He can’t finish the sentence. _Put him down!_ he wants to scream, _Drop him, you’re hurting him!_

But he can’t. It’s like talking in a dream when your words get all mashed together in your mouth despite your best efforts to say them correctly. 

“Out of his misery?” Technoblade laughs. “Just say the words, Tommy.”

His hand tightens again, producing another wet, broken cry. Blood spurts from Tubbo’s mouth, spattering Tommy’s armor. 

“Just say the words. It’ll be a lot less painful for both of you.”

_Do something!_ Tommy’s mind cries, _Do ANYTHING!_ But he can’t. Can he? Technoblade is…. Technoblade is his _friend_ . Technoblade _protects_ him. He can’t- He can’t-

“The- The disc! We need him Techno, we can’t get the disc back without him!”

The disc. That’s right, isn’t it? Didn't they come in here to get the disc? Tommy can’t quite remember. Somebody is sobbing, and he thinks it might be him. 

“We’ll get you a new disc, Tommy. We’ll replace it.” 

What? No. No, _no_ , that’s not how it’s supposed to go. They need Tubbo’s disc. _His_ disc. 

“Technoblade you can’t just- you can’t- we’re _here_ for the disc, right? Right?”

“Tommy, this is bigger than the disc.” Technoblade’s voice is calm. Almost remorseful. “This is about the government. It’s what has to happen. It’s what always has to happen.” 

It finally clicks. 

Tubbo is dying. The voice that has been whispering in the back of his head is now screaming, loud and terrified. _He’s going to die!_ It yells, _Technoblade is going to kill him and Tubbo is going to die, right here, right now in front of you, and it’s going to be all your fault if you don’t DO SOMETHING!_

There’s a hot bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Something he hasn’t felt in… he doesn’t know how long. He’s not running anymore. He’s not being hunted, or threatened, or chased out. He needs to stand up. He needs to _protect_.

“Put him down, Techno. Please” Tommy’s hand is at his sword hilt before he realizes he’s reached for it. His whole body shivers with icy hot adrenaline. 

“You _really_ don’t want to do this, Tommy.” Techno’s mouth barely moves. His snout twitches, an almost imperceptible sign of annoyance.

Tommy looks up, past the twitching body of his friend and into the eyes of his…. _other_ friend.

Techno meets his gaze. His eyes are deceivingly gentle, deep brown orbs framed with thick, coarse lashes set deep in his leathery pink face. But something in them glitters, cold, and red, and unrelenting. 

Tommy wants to look away. He wants to blink first. He wants to squeeze his eyes shut and wait for everything to be over. But he can’t. He _can’t._

“Put him down, Techno. NOW.” His voice doesn’t seem like his own. It belongs to someone older. Someone infinitely braver, and stronger, and more worthy than he could ever be.

  
Techno’s eyes narrow. He seems to grow even taller, although Tommy’s sure that’s not possible. 

“Tommy… Tommy, you know I can’t do that-“

“DROP HIM, TECHNOBLADE!” 

Tommy’s surprised at how loud he sounds. He’s also surprised at the fact that his sword is now leveled at Technoblade’s massive chest plate. It’s almost instinctive. _Where are you going to go from here, dumbass?_ His mind screams, _You know you can’t beat him. You probably couldn’t even land a blow! What the hell were you thinking-_

And Technoblade’s gaze drops. 

His big brown eyes move from Tommy’s to the white house window. He stares out in silent contemplation. His fist unclenches, and Tubbo’s body falls to the ground in a bloody, twitching heap.

“You know, I’d almost changed my mind about you, Tommy. I thought that maybe I could… teach you. That you could help me….and…. that I could help you. That you could be one of the good guys.” Techno pauses. “I see now that I was wrong.” 

His tone is cold. Emotionless. Tommy almost wishes he was yelling. This flat, calculating drawl is infinitely worse. Almost like…. like… like somebody else. Somebody he doesn’t want to remember. 

Technoblade turns, and for a second Tommy thinks he’s going to reach for Tubbo again. But he doesn’t. He steps carefully over the crumpled body on the floor and sweeps towards the door. His cloak bulges and Tommy knows under it are bags and bags of items. Weapons of mass destruction.

“Goodbye, Theseus.” Techno pauses for a moment, a hulking shape silhouetted in the doorway. “Have fun on your way down.” 

And then he’s gone. 

The room is silent for a moment. Completely silent. Tommy’s legs feel like jelly. _Is it over?_ No. Of course not. He knows what’s coming. As much as he’s tried to lie to himself, he knows. He knows Technoblade’s _real_ plan. 

He knows how the story ends.

A noise from the ground. A harsh sucking in of air. Tubbo is curled on his side, breath coming in shallow, broken gasps. Tommy kneels next to him. He can feel his hands shaking. He’s afraid to touch him, afraid any movement might finish the job Technoblade started.

“Tom...mmy...” 

Tubbo’s voice makes him jump. His eyes are open, staring straight at Tommy. His mouth barely moves. “Thank...thank you... Tommy- I’m...” he trails off, shuddering.

“Look, Tubbo- don’t talk, I’ll- I’ll find somebody, you’re going to be okay-” Even as he says it, Tommy knows it’s a lie. 

“I’m… Tommy- I’m so… so sorry. I sh...ould have visited you. I shouldn’t have g-given up...on you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing what- what was right… I thought I was- but it wasn’t- It could never be right-” Tubbo’s cut off by another bout of wheezes. His face is tight with pain.

“I know, I know, I know, please just-” Just _what_? Tommy isn’t sure. “I know you’re sorry. I know, you don’t need to say it. I know. I’m sorry too. I’m so sorry for-” his voice catches. The lump in his throat is growing. “For everything.”

“I never wanted any of this.” Tubbo’s voice is tiny. “I- I didn’t ask for- for it. I wanted to be… be a good leader. To protect people.”

“And you did. You’re the best… the best fucking president L’Manburg’s ever had.” Tommy’s eyes burn.

“The other two… were a terrorist and a dictator, so it’s-” Tubbo lets out a rattling exhale that might almost be a laugh, “it’s not saying much.”

Tommy forces a smile. _You’re not going to cry_ , he thinks. _Not_ _t now, not after everything. You’re here now. You’re with Tubbo. You’re home._

From outside, somewhere in L’Manburg, there comes a loud, booming screech. And then another. And another. And another. And another. Tommy doesn’t need to imagine what’s making the noises. He remembers the dimly lit room, lined floor to ceiling with skulls He remembers the chests piled high with sand. He remembers the 16th. He knows it’s over.

“Is that-?” Tubbo tries to lift his head, but falls back with a yelp, more blood bubbling from the corner of his mouth.

Tommy’s mouth is bone dry. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He smells smoke, sharp and acrid. An acute sense of deja vu. 

_You want to be a hero, Tommy?_ No. Not anymore. He just wants Tubbo’s chest to stop it’s broken heaving. He just wants to listen to his music disc. He just wants to be home.

“Tommy… you need to...to go. Go now. I’m- I’m gonna stay.” Tubbo’s voice is clearer now. More assertive. But the words he’s saying are foreign. They aren’t clicking in Tommy’s brain. 

“Wait- what? Why? Why the hell would I do that?” 

“The-“ Tubbo gestures weakly with his head, towards the window, “-they’re coming. Closer.”

“Then I’ll carry you. Easy.” 

Tubbo wheezes. It’s a wet, awful sound. “You can’t. Hurts… too much. Please.” 

“Well, I’m not going to just- just LEAVE you here- not all alone!” 

“Tommy as… as your president, I’m ord..ord..ordering you to-” another agonized wheeze, “..to leave.”

There’s an irony in that statement that almost makes Tommy laugh. Almost. 

“You exiled me, remember?” He smiles ruefully. “You’re not my president anymore.” 

Tubbo cracks a weak smile, gray eyes wet with tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I’m not, am I?” He’s missing a tooth. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Tommy’s surprised at how calm he feels. It’s not the same burning rush of adrenaline he felt standing on top of the tower at Logstedshire. He’s not scared. He’s not even sad. It feels… right. Right that for once, they stay together. 

“Ranboo’s good. He’s sm-smart.” Tubbo winces. “He’ll be a...he’ll be a good president. After me. He’ll know how to pick up the pieces.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I reckon he will.” Tommy can hear the distant sound of timber crashing. 

“Thank you, Tommy. For.. for everything. For not giving up on me. For being my friend.”

Tommy doesn’t know how to respond. He can’t find the words he needs. How Tubbo has been the one constant through everything- _everything._ How, as much as Tommy had wanted to, he had never hated him. Not really.

“Always.” It’s the only thing he can think of to say. 

For a moment they’re quiet. Outside, Tommy can hear explosions. Somebody is yelling for people to evacuate. Fundy, maybe? Niki? He can’t place the voice. For all he knows it could be Technoblade himself.

Tubbo takes a long, rattling breath. “The….the disc. Your disc. Mellohi.” He kicks a limp foot towards the jukebox in the corner of the room. “It’s already in the… in the box.” 

“My disc…?” That’s right. The disk. _His_ disc. The reason he came here. _The reason for everything_ , he had lied to himself over and over, all those nights alone in Logstedshire as he lay shivering under the stars.

“Go.” Tubbo whispers. “You should play it... for us.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” 

It takes all of Tommy’s effort just to get to his knees. It’s like moving underwater. He can see the disc now, sticking out of the jukebox, half-hidden in shadow. Reaching out for it feels like reaching through quicksand. Is he dreaming? No, he’s not. 

Part of him wishes he was.

He clicks the disc down. 

Part of him doesn’t. 

The jukebox whirs to life and it’s the most beautiful sound Tommy has ever heard.

_At last._

He slumps next to Tubbo as the first notes of Mellohi swirl around them, the low waltz filling the tiny room, somehow drowning out the terrible howling of the withers just outside. Tommy lies back. The wooden floor rattles with each blast, but he doesn’t care. 

He lets his eyes close. 

He can almost imagine that he and Tubbo are back on their bench. Sunlight on their faces… wind in their hair…. friends and allies laughing in the distance, voices mingling with the music… 

No war. No pain.

_Peace._

“It’s always been the two of us, hasn’t it?” 

Tubbo gives a small, pained laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it has.”

Tommy can feel the hint of a smile, a _real_ smile, start to creep across his face.

_This is it,_ he thinks. _This is how it was meant to be_.

He takes his best friend’s hand, and the world around them explodes.


End file.
